Galley

• Jacques Olopai, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2018

The Oregon coastline. The group of mischievous friends had not been since high school, but since the fateful field trip to the dreamy seaside in grade eleven, it was decided as the perfect location for a get together. The ever-prepared Rowan somehow managed to organise a large van, including two rooms split between the six of them in a motel that was actually rather vile in appearance, but ultimately ignored in favour of its perfect location. Situated at a lofty position, it only took a short walk through the local town to reach the ocean.
Galley was beyond excited. It had been a mere four days into their getaway and they had barely scratched the surface of their adventure. She was holding back however, which she hated, being in such a gorgeous place and feeling unable to fully appreciate her time there. Four months before graduating, Galley discovered she had a mysterious ability to read minds, or emotions, or kind of time travel … she hadn’t decided yet. It wasn’t like the superhero movies where they can hear other people’s thoughts, for her, it was quite different.
It came through physical contact, and she would just sort of … experience things. Ghostly whispers, feelings of excitement, confusion or sadness, feelings that are connected to the person at the particular time. So while her ability wasn’t destructive in any way, it certainly made her feel on-edge about touching literally anything, so it was probably a simple matter of learning to handle it.
“Alright, everyone got everything?” Anne was already on her way down, and had turned to wait for our approval. They all gave a thumbs up. “Off we go then!”
On the way, Galley noticed how quiet Sam was. He had been so sad these past few days on their trip, and no one knew why. Several of the friends tried asking him, but he refused to talk. Galley tugged at the corner of his shirt, and he turned his head to the side to look at her. What used to be a bright blue pair of eyes was now a washed-out, tired gaze.
“Galley, I told you, I don’t wanna talk”
“Just sit” she said gently, pulling him aside while the rest of the group walked on.
She took a small breath, and then touched the small tattoo he bore on his forearm. She immediately felt a surge of happiness, bright, soaring happiness. Another feeling came, no words were spoken, but it was a satisfaction, as if some plan had been made.
“You got this tattoo with someone” she said simply.
“How did you-“
“Long story. So, was it a friend?”
“My best friend” he said quietly, tracing the tattoo with his fingers. “We got matching tattoos because she promised me we’d always stick together, and she … she didn’t. She left the country. She left me.”
At his tears, Galley took a longing look at him before speaking.
“Sam, we won’t leave you. None of us ever will”.